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wesstars · 7 months

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hot on your lips

tara carpenter x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: her hands are on your shoulders, and the next thing you know, your back is pressed to the bed, and tara’s rocking her weight on top of you. she leans in close, breath as soft as her skin against your lips, breathing out a quiet ‘yes.’ wc: 3.0k tags: explicit, minors DNI!! no-ghostface au bc i didn’t feel like fitting it in. bad dirty talk, top!reader and bottom!tara, needy!tara, D/s dynamics, reader is a little tiny bit of a sadist (as a treat,) sex on camera, exhibitionism and voyeurism, mild restraint, mild degradation, horribly excessive use of italics a/n: am I back?? idk how i feel about this. thank you to @evilwednesday for helping me out w the cover image & the title :)

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Tara’s in your arms before her bag even hits the floor.

You’re so, so glad the hallway is empty as she nearly bowls you over in the doorway of your shared apartment, peppering your face with kisses. You lift her up and give her a spin, pressing your lips to hers—it’s pure comfort, after so many long months of Tara’s school semester. Long distance was a real bitch sometimes, but Tara reminded you every day of how it was all worth it. In fact, you’d felt as if what you had with her was made more real by the distance so often between you. But now, she’s in your arms, finally, and you nudge her suitcase inside with your foot, bending to grab the backpack she’d discarded.

Pulling back, she speaks, so soft and shy it nearly makes your heart burst. “Hi.”

“Tara,” you breathe, “I thought—I wasn’t supposed to go pick you up from ORD until—”

“There was a change of plans,” she interrupts, palms on your cheeks to pull you into a bruising kiss. You feel yourself practically melt into her, like a docile dog in a firm hand. You set her bag down, just managing to not drop it. “I took an earlier flight-” her lips are on yours again- “Couldn’t wait.”

“Couldn’t wait… for what?”

“This.” She slips her tongue into your mouth, all hot and velvet on your teeth. God, the way it felt to miss her was addictive, but this was a million times better. Grabbing blindly, you miss the door handle a few times as you’re distracted by her soft lips, finally managing to slam the door shut. Shifting your strong hands to the soft crease of her ass and thigh, you bump your teeth into hers in your eagerness, but she doesn’t seem to mind. You walk her into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind you.

Tara smells like the airport and outside wind, something uniquely New York caught in her hair. She pulls back for only a second to reach around, drop her jacket and shoes, leaving her in just a shirt and comfy sweats. Her palms are sun-warm on your cheek and your neck; any place that she could touch was fair game for her. Your mind feels hazy already—it makes it hard to focus as you try to maneuver around furniture you could navigate in the dark, Tara’s presence more than disarming. Part of you wants to slow down, ask her how her semester went, but the smarter, Tara-influenced majority of you knows that with the way she was pulling at you and your heart, she would straight up kill you if you did that. You’re all too happy to oblige her, kissing her back for every day that she’d been gone.

“I missed you,” she whispers as she pulls on the collar of your shirt, even though you’re pressed so close already. She’s feather-light in your arms as you carry her down the hallway, nearly stumbling through the bedroom door. You let her down to stand between your feet, freeing your hands to cup her jaw. The curve of Tara’s face is as familiar as the way her nose brushes against yours, soft. It only takes a second, really, but with just her scraping her nails on the back of your neck, you’re wanting, enough to hold her tight and feel her melt against you.

Tara nearly topples the both of you when she grabs your shirt again and pulls. You just barely catch yourself from crushing her against the bed—but as always, she takes you by surprise, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and slanting her mouth against yours to deepen the kiss. The look in her half-lidded eyes as you peek down at her tells you all you need to know about her intentions. With the way you were kissing up on her, anyone would think that you’d been apart for years, not months, but god knows you couldn’t get enough.

It’s near obscene, the press of your tongue against hers, but with all of the urgency built from the past few months, it only serves to split you open. As quick as it began, your kiss, broken by barely a gasp for air, turns heated and hungry. It’s filthy, and the urge to spit in her mouth and make her swallow is more than a fleeting thought. Instead, you force her thighs open with your hips, grabbing her ass and pulling her close.

Under her sweats, you can feel the edges of fabric underneath, and you grin, skimming your hands lower. You furrow your brow when you feel a telltale band of elastic, and your hands tighten on her thighs.

“Tara-” your voice comes out a rasp- “are you wearing thigh highs?” You’re nearly dizzy with how much blood rushes from your head to your stomach, pooling low and hot.

“I know you like them.” Tara smiles a little, impishly, but she looks down to your hands instead of your eyes. You know her—she’s looking for confirmation that she’s right, that she hadn’t overstepped in wearing something for you. In your mind, it’s absurd of her to even entertain this sort of thing, the way it sends a tingle up your spine. But Tara needs it, and you’re more than eager to please. You trail your fingers to her waistband, pulling her sweats down and off to expose her. Your grip on her hips is tight and squeezing, holding her in a way that’s unmistakable as want.

You cock your head, ignoring how loud your heart runs. “Oh, yeah? Is that why you’re matching again?” You take her hand, slide your thumb over her fingernails, in gel black. The sheer fabric is the same shade, soft as sin against your palms. Briefly, you consider tearing them apart, seeing the ruin of tatters against her skin—but her little whimper as you trace your fingers where her thighs spill out over the top makes you change your mind.

She’s breathing hard from just the kissing, and when she sighs into your mouth, you’re reminded of the way she’d boldly suggested, your blushing cheeks visible even on FaceTime, that you let her take a souvenir back to her apartment. Tara had complained that she was bored, in a way that homework couldn’t solve, her wide eyes telling you that was as true as could be. You never could back down from a challenge, no matter how warm it made you feel—that was why there was currently an old camera sitting on the bedroom table. You smile, biting your tongue.

“Remember what you said that night, baby?”

You point to the other end of the room, to the camera there, mocking. You expect her to laugh, to shake her head with an exasperated fondness, and push her lips back on yours. Instead, she freezes, swallowing. Her grip on your biceps tightens.

“Tara?”

She turns her gaze to you, and in the half-light you see that her pupils are blown, wide in a sort of disbelieving arousal. It hooks you in, a tug in your stomach, as your mind fills with only Tara.

“Tara…” you repeat, “do you remember?” She’s quiet, a blush rising steadily to her cheeks. “‘Don’t you wish you could see what you do to me,’” you tease, leaning in close. “You want me to watch you, right? Well, doll, there’s a camera right there.”

“I—” Tara nearly protests, but oh, her flush, the way her hips move so subtly, is telling enough for you. Not letting her hesitate anymore, you grab her shoulders, flipping her so she’s under you. She fits perfectly, holding you up just as much as you’re holding her down.

“You’re gonna watch this when you’re alone, right?” You tease, trailing a hand down her arm to push her wrists above her head with one hand. In your daze, you know her tells as well as you know that drag of desire in your stomach, and so you already know that she’s— “You’re gonna watch this and rut that needy pussy on your hand, is that it?”

It’s your turn to look for confirmation—distantly, it rings in your mind that you must’ve lost your mind, to be talking to Tara like this, but what’s more apparent to you is the moan that escapes from her mouth, the way her eyes slide shut.

“Yeah,” she breathes, something shameless in the twist of her brow as she arches her back. Her nipples press into your chest, hard through her thin shirt, her knees falling open even more. She’s warm, underwear just clinging to her and leaving nothing to imagination. “I’ll watch it whenever you want me to.”

“You will,” you laugh, something deep and dark. “But when you touch, you’ll let me know when you’re gonna come, okay? So I know that you’ve stopped, like a good girl.” You grind your hips between her thighs, watching her breath catch. It’s a soft, bated moment, but something cracks in the air, nearly audible. The shift between the two of you is a familiar one, apparent in the way that she clings harder to you, presenting her chest, the column of her throat, the tilt of her jaw.

“I will,” she says obediently, her pleading gaze making you grin. “I’ll stop, I’ll touch myself, whatever you want—”

Just as quick, you’re pushing yourself off of her. The room is quiet, save for your footsteps and Tara’s breaths, adorably shaky. The camera is easy to set up, even if you do chance a look at her one too many times. You’re back by her side, and you both watch the red light, winking back at you.

You sit down next to Tara, trailing your hand up and down her stomach. “I’ll tell you every dirty little thing I’d like to do to you, if you’re patient,” you whisper in her ear, something meant for only her to hear.

Her hands are on your shoulders, and the next thing you know, your back is pressed to the bed, and Tara’s rocking her weight on top of you. She leans in close, breath as soft as her skin against your lips, breathing out a quiet ‘yes.’ Giving a little twist that not-so-accidentally presses her heat against the seam of your jeans, she pulls her shirt and bra off in one miraculous motion. You touch her skin, smooth and warm and hot, and you just know she enjoys how your eyes can’t help but drop lower, your hands nearly following. She leans in to kiss you again, the ends of her hair tickling your collar. You both pull back, and you take a second to just look at her, and you can see how she’s been. School was long and difficult, it’s in the set of her eyes, and you want to know more, despite the burn in your stomach.

But with the way she’s looking back at you, white little teeth worrying at her lip, you all but smile.

“Alright, pretty girl,” you tease, “what is it, now?” She whines when your hands meet her chest, rolling her nipples between your fingers. “C’mon, tell me.”

It comes more easily than you expect, and it drops molten heat into your chest. “I wanna ride your face,” she whispers. You grab for her hips, tight. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Glancing over at the red light, you bite down a groan. “Do you think you deserve it?”

“Yes, yes—” she’s already straining against your grip, trying to crawl her way up your body.

“That’s for me to decide, Tara.”

She keens, but she drops her head to watch your hands on her—she’s sensitive—as she pants. You shush her, sliding your thigh between hers. It must catch on her in just the right way, because she’s tensing up in your arms, fingers digging into your shoulders.

“You’re looking so desperate,” you laugh, glad she can’t see the flush on your cheeks.

“I am.” Her bold declaration stops your heart in your chest; you know she’s telling the truth.

“So say ‘please,’” you murmur, head spinning.

Her eyes are glossy when she finally looks at you. “Please…”

“Very good,” you say patiently. You lean up to kiss her, sucking her bottom lip none too gently. “Why don’t you beg a little?”

You see how the false hope makes her tears so willing to spill out. Her hips rut on your thigh, with no rhyme or rhythm—you’re practically begging yourself to help her, but you hold back.

“Please,” she says again, taking a ragged breath. “Please, want your tongue in me—”

“Louder, Tara,” you snap, threading a hand in her hair and pulling her head up, none too gently. You force her to look in the camera, watching her pupils dilate as she stares down the lens. “I want you to be reminded of what a whiny bitch you are.”

“Want you to eat me out,” she whines to the camera, closing her eyes against the redness in her cheeks. “Want…” The next time she says it, it's louder—you release Tara’s hips to pull her panties off, nearly tearing them when she shifts up the bed at the same moment.

It makes you ache, being so close to touching Tara, her scent heady and thick, ensconcing your every sense. Her hands grab the headboard as you wrap your arms around her thighs to pull her closer to your lips. She’s practically shaking in her anticipation, and truthfully, it’s hard for you to wait any longer. You trace your tongue across the stretch marks on her inner thighs, and then straight to her cunt. She’s all velvet and honey against you, as you eagerly run your tongue up and down, savoring what you’ve missed. It’s so intoxicatingly good that you nearly miss the way she cries out, your name a shameless prayer.

You miss her weight on your chest as her back arches, and immediately you’re tracing the dip in her spine. Irrevocably, you’re watching her every move as you tease at her clit, making her rut her hips against your face, chasing friction.

“Fuck,” she says on an exhale, breaking the word into two damning syllables, just like the ba-dum of your heart. Tara tears her hand from the headboard, threading her fingers into your hair to pull you closer. It’s a gesture that you should chastise her for, but you can’t bring yourself to resist her.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” You wrap your lips around her clit and ease two fingers in at the same time—she’s so wet it doesn’t take much to get them in. When you look up at her, the glazed expression on her face is something sated and satisfied, like chocolate wouldn’t ever melt in her mouth. A lazy grin graces her lips, a dusty pink rising up on her cheeks as she squirms against you, adjusting easily to the familiar stretch.

Somehow, you can feel in your gut that she’s being good for the camera, and you can’t bring yourself to take your time. You want everything at once, to make her come over and over again into your waiting mouth, greed your only sin since you were so far past lust, falling into adoration and something dangerously like—

“Please.” It spills out of Tara’s mouth, golden and warm.

“You’ve been saying ‘please’ an awful lot, Tara.”

You wrap your hand, the one not knuckle deep in Tara’s cunt, around her thigh. Squeezing, you felt the soft stockings against your palm as you guided her hips to rock into you, your fingers and your tongue. You wanted her to feel whenever she’d play the video back, for her to be able to memorize fucking your mouth, so no matter the distance, she’d remember. As if on cue, her moan echoes around the walls, in your mind.

“The camera’s gonna pick that up, you know.” Your voice is rough, out of breath with how warm it is to be under Tara.

Her voice is tight, choked. “I know, baby.”

You don’t stop, only shifting slightly to get your thumb on her clit, so you can lean back. You swipe your tongue on your bottom lip, tasting her so sweet, and you watch her eyes, fading in and out of focus, tracking your motion.

“Gonna—”

“Tara,” you laugh, but it’s a warning. She whines, hips twitching, and you can see her lip between her teeth.

“Gonna—oh god—it’s—”

“Gonna what?” You mock, flexing your fingers. “You can do better than that.”

“Please, let me come?” Something warm unfurls in your chest at Tara knowing you want her to ask, your perfect girl, even when she’s so far gone.

“Why?” Your question makes Tara still her hips, which is saying something. “Why should I let you, baby?”

She’s quiet, and since you’ve always been weak for her, you take pity. Your heart’s racing, and the heat in your stomach craves to just see her.

“You’re so good for me, my love… why should I let you come?”

“Because—” Tara breaks off with a lovely little whine, and then it hits her. It breaks up into a floaty feeling in her stomach, like a plume of sparks. Her thighs are trembling around your head, and you lean up to smear her slick on your lips, nudging her clit. “Because I’m your good girl.”

“That’s it, doll,” you murmur. “Come for me, Tara.”

And Tara comes, white hot and tense against you, and in that moment, you think you believe in magic. You want to invent something new just to eternalize her with more than the camera, something more than memory. She’s breathing hard, and you wiggle yourself out from under her. Pliant in your arms, she’s quiet as you help her lay down gently on the covers. For you, your mind was anything but quiet. You think you could run anywhere just to feel Tara, and you can’t resist smiling. Crawling over to give her a peck on the lips, you think Tara’s done—she’s blinking sleepily, eyes flicking between you and the camera, so you move between her knees to shuffle her stockings off, skin against skin. You hear her clear her throat, breaking your trance of fondness.

You look up—you see Tara look to the camera again, and your eyes helplessly follow. She’s got a mischievous little quirk to her lips, like she just knows how bad you wanted to see her come, and…

“You’re gonna tell me those dirty things now, aren’t you?”

a/n cont'd: 🌝

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

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lesovyart · 1 year

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im so obsessed w them that I made fanart AND my own playlist

#気になってる人が男じゃなかった #the guy she wasn't interested in wasn't a guy at all #gays bonding over 90s grunge and dad rock #no like u don't understand I'm a wlw who was raised on rock and blues since as far back as I can remember #reading this manga has been SO en #SO enjoyable #I can't believe I didn't get into it sooner!!!!! And I love the NOFX Green used all through the series omg #Also re the fanmix #I know Aya and Mitsuki are super into 90's grunge and hard rock specifically #but I added in some diff stuff from betwee #Also I tried to the playlist follow the chronology of the story and might continue to add to it/edit 🤔#Anyway I'm really interested in the way both charas relate to music? I feel like they both see music as a place for enjoyment and discovery #but Aya is quite aware of and #secure in her emotions so uses music as an outlet for them: a way to arrange and communicate how she already knows how she's feeling #while Mitsuki seems more to use music as a way to actually understand both the world around her #but also herself... I love them both so muc #god my tags are horrific but writing tags on the tumblr app is literal hell #aya oosawa #mitsuki koga

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willowser · 11 months

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honestly if i had a bigger brain, i would write an entire android shouto fic

#I JUST HAVE SO MANY SCENES IN MY HEAD #you fix his faceplate but cant get him a better eye so he just as this neon blue light #he's always saying things like 'my mother used to read to me when i was young'#and you're always like 'you don't have a mother. you were never young.'#bc you've spent your whole life afraid of machines and how overlord-esque corporations have used them to implement their beliefs #they've taken away so many jobs they are unfeeling they are ruthless they are judge jury and executioner #they're given more power for the sake of being morally grey but they're really just EMOTIONLESS BEINGS THAT SHOULDN’T MAKE CERTAIN DECISION #and then you find him 🥺#and at first you want to sell him and make a quick buck but his face is all fucked up and then he starts TALKING #telling you he can feel pain and sadness and love #and you're like !!!!! no you cant !!!!!!!!!#and then someone tries to bother you in some bar and shouto smashes his face in — literally smashes HIS FACE IN —#and then someone tries to stab you and he moves in the way and takes it and HE BLEEDS AND HE CRIES AJFHSIAKALAL #AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT TO THINK !!!!!!!#WAAAAHHHHH #but it would be so in depth i couldn’t do it justice honestly akfbsjakqk #GOD i wrote too much in these tags #✿ willow writes #✿ shut up willow #✿ thoughts: shouto #✿ theme: android shouto

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nostalgia-tblr · 11 months

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For anyone keeping track (no one), I have started watching the first Avengers film (MCU not the 60s TV show) but only while eating lunch so it's gonna take a while. So far Nick Fury has been assembling the Avengers (the film was initially released in the UK as Avengers Assemble - because of that 60s TV show - but it's not called that on D+ so I'm calling it what the Americans called it, just FYI) even though there's not yet anything for them to avenge as That Suit Guy (j/k I know his name too!!) isn't dead yet, and now they're on THE FUCKING VALIANT FROM DR WHO and I assume we're gonna continue assembling for a while as they're not all there yet.

MEANWHILE Loki (who is neither an alligator nor a woman in this???) is in a SECRET UNDERGROUND LAIR with a bunch of his stans who are... idk something technobabble that involves irridium and anti-protons. He is there looking for the tesseract on behalf of ???? who I know will be revealed 47 films from now as... no, wait, it wasn't, was it? That was just announced on a website or something? So it could be LITERALLY ANYONE. The Avengers (in-progress) also seem to be after that thing, but I have already forgotten why everyone is wanting it, assuming it was mentioned (it probably was).

Thor hasn't shown up yet, but Arrows Hawkeye is working as a Loki Stan and there's Steve Rogers and THE HULK and The Only Woman One, whose power is that she's a Cold War assassin (??) and I think this one is the film where she gets called a cunt (!) and honestly I am not sure which of the men she's getting officially shipped with, I think Arrows Hawkeye though? Fairly sure, as the alternative is that a man and a woman like each other as people but not in a lusty way, which would never happen obviously. (Hey I may ship mostly het* pairings but I don't always like it!)

Based on the Valiant (if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!) I am guessing that the film ends with Loki dying in Thor's arms romantically but then I remembered that I know it can't because one of Loki got kidnapped from... either the end of this film or the start of the next one or POSSIBLY just from a later film's time-travel bit (???) but like... maybe they've edited this film secretly and I was right after all? But nobody else has watched it on Disney + recently so nobody knows yet? IT COULD HAPPEN.

Not sure what to make of this film so far, a lot's been going on yet also not much has been going on, and the one I like best so far (Suit Guy) is gonna die (NOT EVEN IN THOR'S ARMS ROMANTICALLY) and god Iron Man really hasn't aged well now that we have that one tech billionaire being a twat in public all the time to remind us what such people tend to be like. WHERE IS THOR????

*I say het but everyone in everything is bisexual, I know this because I thought of it and announced it on tumblr and will now say "I don't make the rules" to make it an objective FACT. I don't make the rules!!!

#the avengers (mcu edition not the 60s one)#(though if u close one eye and tilt ur head the black widow looks a wee bit like emma peel maybe?)#i like to think the lair of loki stans exists after this to post angrily on social media about how actually he did nothing wrong etc etc #let me know if loki's just working from a subway station that's still in use in this that'd be hilarious he'd be so annoyed by it all #torn on the tortured-by-thanos issue so far he does look messy but he might just have the flu and didn't want to back out #a lot of people are depending on him to jumpstart a movie superhero franchise he can't just take the day off can he #if loki took care of himself thor would be LITERALLY UNEMPLOYED how could he? how could YOU?#(the 'god of thunder' thing isn't a job he doesn't get paid for it so it's just a hobby)#(he doesn't even monetise that hobby! you think iron man would give you storms for free? EXACTLY. he'd have a patreon AT LEAST)#(“if you enjoyed this torrential rain pls tip me on ko-fi which is not pronounced like you think it is because it's a really BAD pun”)#mcu tag i guess #and whatever the fuck my loki character tag was #like i said i really do need to categorise my lokis more it's been bothering me for a while #reminder: i am here because they cast a woman in a previously-male role and SHE'S NOT EVEN IN THIS FILM. OR ANY OF THEM. D:#don't think the alligator's gonna turn up here either :( :( :(#otherwise it's just kind of fascinating what this film assumes i do and don't know about these characters #nick fury's a goth right?

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monstriiss · 1 year

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#gonna get kinda heavy in the tags since im stuck on mobile and cant drop a read more but i need to vent fam squad #god I want to come back but i just don't know how to talk #like i feel like i cant just spring back into conversation like everything is okay and fine #because its not and i dont know how to get over the mental barrier of talking about normal things #it's a really weird feeling and i know im isolating myself but i just dont know what else to do #like i can talk to my family that were there for it. i can talk to people that have been through it #idk i just feel really disconnected #my friends try to talk to me about things and i just cant relate anymore #and they dont get it either. none of my friends have lost their parents and especially havent seen someone die #and they dont know how to talk about it so now its like none of us bother #theres things that happened that i cant say and tbh im pretty haunted #to them its been ages since mum died but to me its only two weeks and still feels like yesterday #i think im pulling away just so i dont have to deal with the hurt of being dropped first #im glad that i have some good close friends that i CAN talk to about things and im so grateful for them #but hoooo boy everything hits different now #tiejfkeie boy am i glad i get to see my therapist tomorrow dkfjskfndk #;; ooc.#death tw #parent death tw #negative tw #;; tbd.

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void-kissed · 11 months

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taken life, given soul (Xenoblade Ship Week 2023 Day 1)

Vanea's work in constructing Face Nemesis requires a suitable pilot to house the soul of Lady Meyneth. After finally acquiring a worthy candidate, she is surprised to learn that the chosen Homs still lives after the procedure, and is even more surprised at her willingness to strike up conversation with a supposed enemy. (2311 words)The second part of this writing replaces the Face Nemesis cutscene from the end of Chapter Six.

This is the first meeting between Vanea and my self-insert, Citri! ..Not the most conventional or romantic of first meetings, but here it is in writing nonetheless! Despite being a couple of days late on the finishing, I decided that hopefully this could be fitted to this year's Xenoblade Chronicles ship week, as set up by a friend of mine - I hope that that's alright ^-^

(Anyone is welcome to comment on or reblog my work if they wish, as long as my DNI is respected! Tag list and document transcript are under the readmore.)

Document transcript:

The Central Factory that lay within the chest of the Mechonis was where all Homs were taken after their capture, ready to be repurposed in the bodies of the Faced Mechon and used to assault the titan they had once dwelled upon. The recent attack on Colony 9 had provided the Mechon with some valuable resources, even if some of the initial reports were conveying worrying news about a new wielder of the Monado arising. Within the metal walls of the facility, new Mechon soldiers of all kinds were constantly being manufactured, mass-produced Faces among them. All operations were brilliantly orchestrated by the lone man spearheading the charge against the Bionis, who even now was doubtless deep in thought about how best to proceed in his efforts.

However, in an illuminated chamber that sat above the rest of the vast factory, his sister - a similarly-tall Machina woman with long grey hair - was overseeing the automated construction of a vast white-silver figure. Its parts all towered above her, interlaced with golden details and a doubled red diamond on its helmet-like faceplate. Below the mechanical figure lay an additional array of compatible pieces resembling parts of a human body, ready and waiting for a pilot to be fitted into them. Dozens of individual pieces were being put together by fine machinery, each one being subtly tweaked or modified as the woman carefully adjusted the many glowing controls before her, but the overall structure had yet to be properly assembled.

"Lady Vanea." came a sudden voice from the communication system above the woman. "There is a matter which requires your attention."

"What is it?" Vanea responded, addressing the empty chamber with cautious, distracted uncertainty. "I am still trying to resolve the faults in this Face's digits; can the matter not wait until this is resolved?"

The other voice seemed to pause, but only for a moment, before continuing its announcement. "It is about the pilot for the Face you are currently working on. Two potential candidates have been identified by our preliminary systems."

That was enough to catch Vanea's ear, as her eyes widened slightly before she finally turned her head to face the other voice. "..Very well. Please bring them here immediately, then."

A few robotic chirps could be heard, before further machinery began to whir into action - this time at the other end of the chamber, which Vanea had now turned to face with her back to the silver Face's controls. Its parts continued to be constructed without her direction, aside from what should have eventually become its pilot's fingers, given that they still lacked the proper range of movement to be fitted onto such an important Faced Mechon.

After a few moments, an opening appeared in the dark metal floor of the chamber, and the bodies of two young Homs women were lifted up through it, held up by actuators from the factory. Both looked somewhat similar at the first glance, being the same height and appearing of similar age - they both had golden blonde hair (though one wore it in a long dishevelled plait where the other's only fell to just past her shoulders), and as they were each scanned for further information, Vanea could see on the displays that they both had dark green eyes. One had freckles dotting her shoulders and rounded cheeks, and was littered with a number of scrapes and bruises, while the other's skin was clearer and she appeared to have suffered one particularly significant wound that had clawed at her clavicle.

"..What about these Homs has marked them out as worthy vessels?" Vanea asked, before the continued operations of the myriad machines circling each Homs began to output the pertinent results on the floating screens around her in the chamber. Carefully examining the data that had been gathered, Vanea found the answers lying within each girl's scanned memories, snapshots playing from them like a slideshow - the pair clearly shared a long history with not only each other, but also several other inhabitants of their home colony, and one boy with light blonde hair stood out particularly strongly to the Machina.

"..The Heir of the Monado." she said aloud in recognition. "They were both friends with him, it would seem.."

She pored over the memories closely, trying to glean what information she could about the two Homs' personalities from them. It seemed like somewhat of an invasion of privacy to do this, but it was of the utmost importance that everything was as perfect as it could be for her current project, so such measures had to be taken to ensure the correct compatibility. Finally, after some time, she had made her decision - it was the freckled Homs with the longer hair who would be used for this purpose, due to the piercing injury sustained by the other one potentially making it difficult for the key component to be added correctly. The glimpses of her many days spent pursuing scientific endeavours with the Monado's newest wielder had also caught Vanea's eye more strongly.

"Please take this girl and prepare her for piloting Nemesis." the Machina stated to her assistant machinery, before turning to look over her shoulder at the unfortunate error still blaring from the screens behind her. "..Adjust the current pilot specifications to her body plan, but- try to preserve her original hands, if possible. That may have to be the workaround for the defects in the current digits, non-ideal though it may be.."

She then sighed, and addressed the chosen girl's companion.

"This other one does still hold promise, though.. Perhaps see whether any of our experimental designs might be compatible with her frame - Azure, for example."

As the machinery around her whirred to action once more according to her choices, and each girl was sent to her fate, Vanea took a moment to compose herself, staring up at the pieces of her dream - the central prism of golden metal standing out above all others.

A vessel had finally been found to hold the soul of her people's goddess, and with her divine revival thus at hand, the time had come for the tides of war to shift.

As long as everything in this experiment proceeded as it was meant to, the end to such ceaseless conflict may have finally begun.

What a shame that the Homs' past would be erased in the process..

==========

Enough time had passed for all the preparations to be made. The Homs girl chosen by Vanea now had most of her body replaced by the mechanical components made beforehand, each piece now individually modified to ensure maximum compatibility with her remaining reconfigured immune and nervous systems. The only parts of her left that still appeared biological were her head above the neck and her hands past the wrists, though even they had received artificial upgrades below the surface to better serve as the Faced Mechon's central nerve unit.

This pilot unit was now being lifted into the central cockpit of the much larger silver Mechon, which had now itself been fully assembled. Its spiked and winged structure hovered high above Vanea like an angel, ready and waiting dutifully for its first activation as the final touches were smoothly made to its surfaces.

“Face Nemesis." Vanea began, addressing the construct above her.

"Your frame is complete.

As is the integration of your pilot."

Some of the assistant Mechon receded, revealing the pilot's unconscious figure sat in place within Nemesis' torso.

"This Homs..

She holds memories of the Heir of the Monado.

She appears to have seen him as a friend.

..I wonder what she would have been like to know.

But, that is not important here.

It only means that her body will be an able vessel for you, my Lady.

All that remains is the soul transfer..”

All other machines departed as the final Mechon descended, carrying the golden metal prism in its grasp. With exactly-calculated precision, the triangular component was fitted onto the chest of the Homs pilot. There was a moment of silence, before familiar red energy started to flow through the body of Face Nemesis; the soul component then started to glow with power, before settling down again as the armoured plating closed over the cockpit chamber.

"..I have fulfilled my duty." Vanea stated, allowing herself to smile as everything finally fell into place.

"You and only you can bring about a new age on Mechonis -

no, the entire world.

My mistress,

Lady Meyneth."

She waited, and then became all too aware of how empty the chambers around her still felt.

"..Lady Meyneth?"

A feminine voice suddenly rang out through Nemesis' speakers, but it was not the kind and caring tone that the Machina so fondly recalled, even all these centuries since she had last heard it directly.

"Ah.. Where.. W-Where am I..?"

Vanea's own voice caught in her throat from hearing such an unexpected response, and her brow furrowed. "You.. Are you Lady Meyneth?"

"What?" came the other voice, sounding weary and confused from inside the Faced Mechon. "No, my name is Citri. Um.. What *is* all of this..?"

At that moment, all Vanea could do was blink. She had never spoken with a Face pilot directly before, and the concern rising inside of her about what she had done wrong was making it all but impossible for her to properly address the anomaly.

"Something has gone wrong with the soul transfer.." she mumbled to herself, beginning to anxiously flit between the different screens and keyboards in her vicinity. "Yet, the scans themselves seem to be indicating that everything is properly in place.. Her presence is clearly *detectable*, and yet the central core is not showing signs of *activity*-"

A sense of panic flared within her, and her ability to maintain a composed exterior was rapidly deteriorating.

"My dearest goddess, what have I done wrong..?"

As she stifled a sob, the sound of mechanical joints moving rang out through the chamber, before they stopped (having been moved in error) and the torso plating opened back up instead.

"Um.. When you say "central core", do you mean this part?"

A tiny *tap-tap* noise, much quieter than any type of metal hitting metal could produce, prompted Vanea to lift her gaze. The Homs girl - *Citri*, as she had called herself - was tapping her still-organic fingernail on the prism of golden metal that was fitted to the chest of her new body.

"..Yes, that is correct." Vanea admitted, blinking uncertainly again.

"It.. feels as though something is inside of it." she then tried to explain, tilting her head as much as the cockpit would allow her to. "Some*one*, rather, if.. what you were saying before about your goddess is true. But.. I'm not sure whether she can wake up yet?"

The Machina took a moment to consider Citri's words. "That would be unfortunate, but.. it is reassuring to know that you are able to sense her presence."

Citri gave a small nod, very tentatively, but her expression was uncertain.

"..What was supposed to have happened?" she then asked.

"That Lady Meyneth's soul would be swiftly transferred into your body, overwriting your own, for her subsequent use as a vessel to pilot Face Nemesis." Vanea stated matter-of-factly. Then she stopped.

"..That was rather callous of me, wasn't it?"

"Somewhat, yes." admitted Citri, who would have mustered a smile if not for how disoriented she still felt. "But if nothing else, you definitely answered me clearly with how you said it, so.. thank you."

An awkward silence then settled in between the two.

"..Could you possibly tell me more about what's happened? What you've done to me, and all?"

The genuine nature of such a question, and the absolute lack of malice that she had expected to permeate through any Homs unwillingly stolen by Mechon, made it impossible for Vanea to simply dismiss the girl's curiosity. Something softened in her expression, and she opened her mouth to try and form an explanation, but the same voice from before piped up through the communication systems as she did so.

"Lady Vanea." it called out. "Master Egil wishes to see you."

This made her pause with some uncertainty. "Understood. Tell him I will see him.. momentarily." she then settled on.

"Acknowledged."

The device whirred away as Vanea's gaze fell back onto Citri, her red eyes meeting her green ones for a moment before neither felt able to hold the gaze further.

"..I apologise for this interruption, but- you may have my word that I shall return to these chambers once I have finished meeting with my brother." she then said. "It may well be that Lady Meyneth has properly awakened by that time, but if not, then.. If you would listen to our story, then I see no harm in sharing it with you."

"I understand." replied Citri. "That means a lot, Vanea."

She smiled at the mention of her name. "You miss little, I see. Very well then. I shall return shortly, Citri."

With nothing more to say for the moment, she then left her alone within Face Nemesis.

Only *after* she had turned to leave the chamber did Vanea realise her own instinctive use of the girl's own name, and she was surprised to have found herself recalling it from one mention. Nevertheless, she persisted in her next objective, doing her utmost to regain her usual composure even as she silently came to the conclusion that it was a name she wished to remember, despite part of her also knowing it was not a name she should have ever had a chance to learn.

Thankfully for both, there would still be many opportunities in the days that followed to converse, and to learn, and to get to know each other more than either could have envisioned beforehand.

#a call from the void #creations from the void #my writing #xenoblade chronicles selfshipping #xenobladeshipweek23 #yes i'm using the proper tag no I don't care if other people see this i'm going to be brave #this post is okay for anyone to reblog as long as my DNI is respected!#heart of the void #selfshipping #love: a wish for peace (vanea)#selfship: a love to last millennia (vanea/citri)#or its beginnings at least #self‑insert: vessel of nemesis (citri)#of gods and titans (xenoblade chronicles)#another character also technically shows up but not very prominently #and lady meyneth is *supposed* to show up but doesn't #..I really feel like this needs some kind of content warning but I cannot think of how to word it right this second sorry #and on the note of right this second it is quarter past two in the morning oops #uhh. mechanisation I guess? would that work I don't know #i have no idea how accurate this is story- or character-wise I apologise #canon is what I make of it or something along those lines #anyway I hope this is okay

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